


Fever

by dollcewrites



Category: One Piece
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Light restraint, M/M, PWP, Roleplay, costume play, sanji topping from the bottom, wishy washy fluffy aftercare sort of deal because i'm a sucker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:50:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7039252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollcewrites/pseuds/dollcewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoro seems to be having difficulty processing speech. His jaw has managed to drop a little. </p><p>Sanji feels his skin burn under his lover’s gaze, and he adores the rush of power he feels, knowing Zoro likes what he sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever

**Author's Note:**

> slam dunk me in the trash this is super self indulgent and i have no justifications  
> this was originally just meant to be costume play but i tripped and added in d/s and very light restraint because, to reiterate, i am a self indulgent sinner. added in some fluffy aftercare type stuff too because it feels wrong without it :')
> 
> this fic is alternatively titled "zoro is sick and his medicine is dick", with credit to pixel as always

“Oh dear, Mr.Roronoa. You don’t look so good.”

Zoro really doesn’t look so good.

The moment his eyes rode over Sanji, his pupils blew wide. It’s almost comical how he stands frozen still in the doorway of the Sunny’s infirmary, gaze fixated on Sanji.

“Why don’t you take a seat?” Sanji purrs again, gesturing to the bed.

Zoro seems to be having difficulty processing speech. His jaw has managed to drop a little. Sanji feels his skin burn under his lover’s gaze, and he adores the rush of power he feels, knowing Zoro likes what he sees.

 Sanji moves first.

 He takes slow, deliberate steps toward the desk, the heels of his red pumps clicking against the wooden floorboards. Swivelling Chopper’s desk chair around, he sits himself down carefully in the chair, being sure to cross his legs so that Zoro can’t see up his skirt.   
  
It’s not a skirt, per say. It’s a dress. And not even quite that—it’s a nurse’s costume, which probably couldn’t get away with being called a dress in daylight.  
  
His legs feel nice crossed, the soft denier of the white tights feeling smooth where it rubs against itself.  
  
“And close the door, if you would. It’s important to have privacy in a doctor’s office, you know. _Confidentiality of the patient,_ and all.”

Zoro swallows. He steps properly inside, and closes the door behind himself. The lock clicks satisfyingly and Sanji gives him a small smile.

Gingerly, Zoro sits himself on the bed. He looks like he’s trying not to jump Sanji right then and there. A greedy delight heats Sanji’s stomach.

 _Now the fun part._  

Making sure Zoro’s eyes are following his hands, he trails a hand up, gently nudging the white hem of the dress away and pulling one of his tights up a little higher.

Zoro’s eyes leave Sanji’s hands and still on the slip of pale skin between his tights and the dress.

Sanji smooths the skirt back down and folds his hands in his lap again, to conceal his growing erection. He can’t help the rampant excitement that comes with teasing Zoro.

Zoro’s voice comes out dry. “You know, now you mention it, I don’t feel so good. I think I have a fever.” He licks his lower lip, eyes still focused on Sanji’s legs. They move up, and gold eyes burn into blue. Zoro’s dimple is visible as he grins lopsidedly. “What’s the treatment, _nurse?_ ”

 

—

 

Sanji stands, and Zoro is given a perfect view of his outstretched legs, and the skimpy nurse’s costume clinging to his body. A collar with a red cross on it circles his throat, and the v-shaped neckline of the dress exposes a good half of his chest. There are pleats in the skirt.

Zoro’s hands itch to pull the bib headband from Sanji’s hair; to card fingers through his blonde waves, to peel the thin dress from his body.

The tights and heels can stay.

But he waits.

Sanji clicks over to him, a low-lidded, slightly arrogant expression on his face. It sends a strike of heat to Zoro’s gut. Sanji stops, standing over him.

“Let me check your temperature.” Sanji extends a hand, palm up. “Give me your wrist.”

Zoro complies immediately.

Sanji takes it carefully and casually, and raises the inside of Zoro’s wrist to his lips. He presses a slow kiss into the skin, before return Zoro’s hand to his side, away from Sanji. It’s agony, not being in contact with Sanji. Zoro can feel the heat radiating from him.

“Hm, you definitely feel clammy. It’s hard to be sure, because I _unfortunately_ have _no thermometer_ , but the lips are...” He leans into Zoro’s space, “sensitive enough.” Sanji places his lips on Zoro’s temple, somewhere in between a kiss and a real temperature check.

He pulls back once more. “There’s one more test. If you’ll just open your mouth please, sir.”

Zoro has to stop a moan escaping his throat when he parts his lips.

Sanji bites his own lip in mock deliberation. “Oh dear, I don’t even have proper sterile gloves—I’ll have to use my bare fingers, if that’s alright.”

Zoro nods yes.

Sanji slips two of his fingers into Zoro’s mouth, and then slips himself into Zoro’s lap.

Zoro can feel him wiggle experimentally against the hard friction in Zoro’s pants.

“It’s just as I thought, you’re definitely burning up.” Sanji leans in, breath ghosting over Zoro’s jaw, to whisper in his ear. “You’re so hot, I can’t help myself.”

Sanji’s precious, precious fingers are withdrawn from his mouth, but the rush of arousal from the cook’s trust doesn’t leave Zoro.

Sanji leans back a little and gives Zoro a stern, appraising look. “You have a fever. You’ll have to sweat it out.”

 

—

 

When Sanji finally lowers himself onto Zoro, he is unable to stifle the sounds his lips let loose. He’s got Zoro on the chair now, his own legs straddling Zoro’s lap and corralling his hips.

Zoro slides in easily, and Sanji can feel some of the lube trickle down his inner thigh, but mostly, he’s hyper-focused on the sensation of Zoro filling him up.

“Alright, nurse?” Zoro’s grin is sly. Sanji can feel the heat radiating from him.

“You’re sick. You shouldn’t talk.” 

“I—”

Zoro’s sentence is choked off as Sanji rolls his hips experimentally. The other man’s lips gasp at his throat.

He does it again, lifting his hips then sliding down, muscles straining. A shiver of pleasure wracks his body.

The pace is fast and hungry. Zoro’s hands roam to him, caressing his throat, holding his hips, and then Zoro is taking control of it, angling Sanji down, and Sanji’s gasping as Zoro hits that sweet spot inside of him and he’s seeing white heat, entire body electrified.

There is no way he is coming so soon. He wants more.

He removes Zoro’s hands, and turns himself, so that Zoro is still inside him, but now Sanji’s half bent over the desk, elbows propped on the wood. With his hands freed again, Zoro utilises them, pulling at the hem of one of Sanji’s white stocking. It snaps back to his skin and Sanji muffles a whimper. Zoro’s hands lift his skirt, folding the pleats up. Sanji rocks a little, and hears a sharp intake of breath. He’s not sure which is more depraved; that Zoro likes watching himself disappear inside Sanji, or that he _likes_ that Zoro likes watching.

He tries to get the same pace as before.

The angle is easier now, and it’s not long before Sanji is desperately pulling himself down to meet Zoro, panting, head hanging to his chest. Zoro's hands are eager on him, he feels them stroke his thighs, feels nails lightly scratch his skin. It’s distracting, and overwhelming, and he doesn’t want it like that—not yet.

“Stop touching me,” he pants, not stopping his own movements. He feels Zoro's hands hesitate. “Or I’ll tie your arms— _haa_ —behind your back.”

 Zoro pinches his ass.

Sanji doesn’t bother with a growl of _“you did that on purpose”_ and simply halts, pulling himself off Zoro. He ignores the empty feeling. The skirt floats down, and he steps over to the cabinet by Chopper’s desk, opening the drawer where he knows that bandages are.

He chooses the coarse, plasticy kind that he knows Chopper gets for wrapping over the top of gauze, sturdy stuff that makes it difficult for his troublesome patients to remove. He uses scissors to cut a metre or so off, the tools making a sharp _snip_ sound as he does.

Sanji turns back to Zoro, whose gaze is fixated on him. He pointedly does not meet Zoro’s eyes, instead stalking to the back of his chair.

“Hands." 

Zoro obliges silently, putting his arms behind his back, pressing the insides of his wrists together. Sanji is delighted with his uncharacteristic, easy compliance.

Usually Sanji is on the other end of this—indeed, though he’d never admit it aloud to a soul alive save for Zoro, he enjoys being submissive for the man. But sometimes a change is good. Sometimes he needs to take control. And Zoro seems plenty happy with this arrangement; never challenging him at times like these. Sanji suspects it’s not the domination he enjoys, but the confidence Sanji exudes.

He loops a few strips of bandage around Zoro’s wrists, and then a few more for good measure. To check the tightness, he slides a finger inside the restraints, which he can just barely do. _Perfect._ No so tight as to cut off circulation, but tight enough to stop his hands from moving an inch.

Sanji uses the free ends of the bandage to tie a bow.

He regards his handiwork. A frosty bow over Zoro’s tan wrists, Zoro naked on the chair, chest thrust out slightly from his arms being bound behind his back. Sanji bites down his smile when he sees that Zoro is still painfully hard. It’s art.

“That’s better, isn’t it?”

Zoro huffs, exhaling through his nose. If he disagrees, he doesn’t voice it.

Sanji lifts his skirt and strokes himself, so that Zoro can see how turned on he is. He runs a thumb over his weeping head.

Zoro looks like he’s starved man watching Sanji eat peaches and lick whipped cream from his fingers. _Not a bad idea, either._ Sanji files that fantasy away.

Sanji turns, skirt still lifted, ass on display, and lowers himself onto Zoro once more, a hand on the table in front for support. Heat fills him up and he swallows a moan.

Glancing back at Zoro, he sees him sucking in a breath. His arms strain, corded biceps tensing in futility as he tries to tug his wrists free from their bonds.

Sanji begins to move again.

It’s not long before his elbows relocate to the desk, arms propping himself up as he rides Zoro. His thrusts get harder, slicker, his breath is dragging. He hears Zoro growl in frustration and rewards him with a few twists of his hips. Zoro moans in a particularly lewd way; one that Sanji’s not usually privy too.

The rare sound sends him over the edge, and he just has enough time to palm the head of his cock as he comes, spilling over his fingers and palm, and not the inside of the skirt. His thrusts become wobbly and sloppy, and once the crashing of his orgasm clears from his ears he becomes aware he’s making desperate, spent moaning sounds.

Zoro is jerking his hips up as best he can while tied to the chair, their bodies still meeting in a frantic pace, and then Sanji feels him stutter and release inside him. A muffled groan spills from his lips to accompany it.

Sanji fetches the box of tissues from the corner of Chopper’s desk, and pulls a few out to clean his hands.

“Can you untie me now?" 

Sanji regards Zoro, and then offers him a pleasant smile. “Certainly.”

The bow comes undone with a tug, and Sanji unravels the bandages. Zoro rubs his wrists.

Sudden tiredness washes over Sanji’s body.

Carefully, he flops down in Zoro’s lap once more, head pillowing against Zoro’s shoulder. He feels one of the swordsman’s hands move to stroke his back softly.

“Tired?” Zoro’s voice is gentle and quiet, full of affection.

“Mm.” Sanji nods weakly.

Zoro presses a kiss to the top of his shoulder. “Let’s go have a hot bath, and then get some sleep.”

That sounds perfect to Sanji.

“Okay,” he pushes himself off Zoro. “You put on some clothes, I’ll get out of this outfit and put on my other clothes, and then we’ll go run a bath.”

Zoro snorts, and stands when Sanji lets him up. “I’m just going to take all my clothes off again when I get there. What’s the point?”

“One of the _ladies_ could see you naked!”

“I’m pretty sure they’ve seen a naked man before. Also, they should be asleep. _Everyone_ should be asleep.”

“That’s not the _point,”_ Sanji hisses. “Just put on some pants, you neanderthal.”

Zoro snorts. 

When Sanji sees that Zoro is at least, putting on pants, he strips himself of the outfit and folds it neatly up, tucking the various pieces into an unassuming shoebox, which he’ll tuck into the back of his clothes’ drawer later. He throws on his slacks and dress shirt, hanging his tie over his shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he says to Zoro, leaning by the door.

The night air is cold and stings his face. He can see the stars above perfectly, white pinpoints in the ink sky, unblanketed by even a single cloud. That hot bath is getting more appealing by the second, he feels unclean and is chilling rapidly. 

The bath water stings his skin when he sinks into it, but it tingles all over in the best way possible. He sighs. 

Water laps at his chest as he slides lower, and he turns and wriggles toward Zoro, sloshing a little water over them both. Zoro’s arms comes to wrap around him from behind, and Sanji relaxes his back against the swordsman’s broad chest.

He makes a pleased hum.

Zoro grunts a little, which Sanji identifies as his _“what is it”_ grunt.

“It’s warm, you’re warm, this feels great. I’m happy.”

Zoro’s thumb rubs an arc over Sanji’s side absentmindedly.

“Mm, good.” Sanji feels Zoro’s chin rest against the top of his head, and when the man speaks again he can feel the small vibration of his throat. His tone is tinged with mischief. “We wouldn’t want you to catch a cold, would we?”

Sanji feels his cheeks heat up, and not from the bath water.

 

—

**Author's Note:**

> i posted that art on my blog dollcedraws.tumblr.com SO LONG AGO, like a month? it's taken me this long to finish it hhh  
> hope ya'll sinners enjoyed this


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